


When Quiet Is Violent

by imhereforbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mutant Reader, Reader-Insert, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforbvcky/pseuds/imhereforbvcky
Summary: You’re retired, living a quiet and secure life when your ex turns up on your doorstep with his best friend, seeking refuge.





	1. Chapter 1

The morning after a snowstorm was always your favorite here. The already quiet forest around your cabin rendered utterly silent, tree branches heavy and yielding to the new snow. You loved the pale blue light and how the morning sun made every surface glitter with the day’s new ice crystals. You could practically feel the static electricity in the air, dancing across your skin snapping little sparks when you rubbed your hands over your arms for warmth. Past time to light a fire.

A quick glance at your phone told you they weren’t here. Not yet. You tried not to be annoyed, knowing that if he called _you_ he must really need help and safety. Naturally a night owl, the 4:30am call was a harsh awakening but when you saw “Steve” on the caller ID everything shifted. It always did for him. He carried a sense of urgency everywhere he went and your history made it impossible to ignore.

Finally warming by your fire, relishing in the smell of burning pine and rich coffee, your phone pinged softly. Unlocking it quickly you watched Steve drive by your security camera in an old looking pick-up truck. Stolen, surely. “Steve, you bad boy,” you muttered continuing to watch the live feed for minutes after he passed your property, looking for vehicles you didn’t recognize, making sure they weren’t followed. You didn’t bother with gates. Anyone who would be coming for you would find a way past them and this way they’d all come through where you expected and you’d see them.

Pulling your jacket tight around you, boots tied midway up your calves, you prepared to step out into the snow as the pick-up pulled up to the house. Steve jumped out and flew to the passenger door, nearly ripping it off the hinges as he leaned inside to help hoist his friend out and slinging a heavy, limp metal arm over his shoulder.

You’d heard about Bucky of course. The Winter Soldier. But frankly you figured his past was his own, and it didn’t much interest you. You weren’t terribly fond of your own, so why drudge up his. If Steve trusted him, that was enough for you.

They both looked pretty rough, but you knew they’d heal up quickly. You lingered on the porch only long enough to hold the door for them as they staggered in, exhausted and bruised, before you quickly climbed into the truck and drove it into the pole barn. Your home might be secluded and you might keep a secure premises, but there was really no defending a cabin from aerial attack. Best to hide the truck, just in case they were seen transferring into it.

Jogging lightly back inside, you continued to grab them each some fresh clothes and linens. They had already broken into the first aid kit and were rolling up bloodied sleeves and pant-legs, patching themselves up in the kitchen. You could see the edges of most of the lacerations beginning to heal already on these super-soldiers, but one particular gash on Bucky’s shin looked like it might be bleeding faster than it was healing.

You snorted, setting down the fresh clothes beside him, as he tried to peel open a butterfly bandage with his teeth, his left arm hanging conspicuously immobile beside him. “That’s not going to hold,” you warned, “Let me stitch it up.”

He didn’t answer, just looked up at you warily. You were already slipping gloves on and pulling a needle and gauze from a sterile pack.

“Buck, this is Y/N,” Steve muttered, “Y/N, Bucky.”

“Yeah, kinda gathered,” you mumbled, pressing the needle carefully into his skin. “Sorry,” you glanced up to meet his eyes when he groaned, caught a little off guard at the piercing blue glaring at your hands. “I’ll be quick.”

You made short work of the cut, not bothering to make a terribly clean stitch, knowing he’d heal fast and clean anyway. Handing him a garbage bag and one of the stacks of clothes you directed him to the shower before they got blood on _everything_.

“You okay?” You leaned back on the counter, palms resting on the edge beside you, watching Steve intently. After all this time, you could still read him like a book. He was stressed and exhausted. He’d still be on alert, even here, but the forced rest of being pinned here, in the quiet for a few days would do him some good.

He nodded, but pinched the bridge of his nose, crossing his arms over his chest, confirming your read on him, but in true Steve fashion failing to share anything. He was here, putting you at risk, the life you’d built for yourself at risk, but he just shut down. Asking you to put duty ahead of everything without a word. It was so Steve, so… familiar, it got to you faster than you’d expected.

“Are you going to _say_ anything?” you snapped, regretting it instantly. You had always had a solid friendship, even after your relationship had ended. It was mutual, you knew you wanted different things in the end, it just wasn’t working. But that didn’t mean it was painless. It also meant that the little quirks like the sweet way he always tried to shield you were now a nuisance, when you could handle yourself just fine, when _he_ had come for _your_ help this time.

He sighed deeply and stepped in front of you, resting both hands on your shoulders, “I’m sorry. Thank you. For everything. I know this is a risk…”

“What happened to his arm, Stevie?” You asked, pushing out of his grip to wipe at the dirt, gunpowder, and blood residue left on your table from their clothes. The boys were filthy and worn. You should be letting him clean up and rest, but you needed some answers first. You couldn’t keep them safe, keep yourself and the life you’d built safe, if you were completely in the dark.

He didn’t answer, just gave you a reproachful look. You knew he wouldn’t disclose much, he thought it would protect you somehow. It was foolish. You sighed heavily, “Okay, what’s your next move? You can’t move him through whatever you just came from with only one good arm. You barely made it the first time with two.”

Steve rolled his gaze away from you, looking far and away out the window, “It’s not a good idea. The more people that know we’re here, the more people that are at risk.”

“You’re being an idiot,” you scolded, “Some people are willing to take that risk. And you,” you pointed at him sharply, “need the help. Or rather he does.” Steve rolled his lips into a thin line, weighing your words. You were right and he knew it, but he just always had to be the hero. “Is it technically government property? The technology? The arm?” you asked quickly.

“What? No!” He snapped back to you, “Well… not this government.”

“Good, then I’m calling Austin and we’re fixing this.” You didn’t give him a chance to protest, quickly, bringing the phone to your ear. Steve began rambling at you about how you shouldn’t do this, they’d figure something out, blah.

“Hey!” you cut him off when your brother picked up on the other line, Steve spun away from you in frustration throwing his hand in the air. “I have a situation at the cabin and could use your help. Steve’s here.” You watched him closely, pointing sharply to the remaining set of clothes and towel on the table when Bucky came back into the room, signaling to Steve to shut the hell up and get in the shower because this conversation was over. “No, nothing dangerous, just… confidential and pretty urgent. Hurry up.”

* * *

Later that evening, after the boys had gotten some sleep and you’d scanned the area news for Captain America sightings looking for intel that could help you keep your home safe, you were cleaning up the meal you’d made when Austin’s car pulled up. Steve had borrowed one of your burner phones to start making a few calls, planning the next move, whatever the hell that was going to be.

Bucky stayed inside. He didn’t speak much, which was fine. You liked the quiet, that’s why you lived here in this isolated cabin, alone. He perked up though at the sound of the tires crunching over the fresh snow. He looked to you as you watched out the window, looking for your reaction, for fear or any sign it was someone to worry about. But you smiled and it was sweet and warm, your eyes looked soft as your skin wrinkled at the corners. He hadn’t noticed before how soft your eyes were, not when they were focused on sliding a needle through his skin.

He was confused for a moment when he heard rapid, light footsteps… a child? He jolted upright when he heard low rumble from Steve, but settled quickly at the sound of your laughter. Steve had scooped your nephew high into the air, groaning as if the strain of how he’d grown since Steve had seen him was too much for the immeasurably strong Captain America.

You didn’t see the puzzled furrowing of Bucky’s brow or the slight frown when you shook your head softly, still smiling. It was a sad smile and he found himself wishing for the soft lightness of the first one. He hardly knew you, hadn’t even spoken to you, not one word, but here he was, for some reason, unconsciously memorizing and analyzing the different ways you smiled.

You did, however, notice how Bucky tensed when they came barreling into the house. He clearly wasn’t good with strangers, not that you could blame him, but you needed him to relax and trust this particular stranger.

You grunted when your nephew slammed into your legs, his head crushing all the air from your gut as he hugged you as tight as only kids do. “Lookit! I made you a new snowflake!”

“Kangaroo! It’s beautiful!” you gasped, overdoing it. A lot.

“Guess what we got!”

“Um… a walrus!”

“No!” He giggled “A skelescope! We looked at the um the big dipper last night, and dad said it’s supposed to be a bear!”

“I saw a bear last night!” you shouted, gripping his little arms in mock terror. “A big black bear!”

“You did?! Were you scared?”

“No, baby kangaroo,” you soothed, “I scared him away with my fireworks.” You winked, holding your finger over your lips, reminding him that your “magic fireworks” were your family secret. You glanced over your shoulder to confirm your brother had Bucky wrapped in conversation, and your family secrets remained that way.

As you stood you picked up on the conversation, your brother introducing himself, that he was an electrical engineer, that he was here to try to get Bucky’s arm operational again. Bucky still looked apprehensive, standing at his full height, chest puffed defensively, or was he just that broad? And muscled…? Shaking your head to dismiss the distraction, you caught the end of your kangaroo’s rambling as he tugged on your hand, demanding your attention. “…and we looked at the stars all night!” Bingo.

“You did? That’s pretty cool! Hey know who has a really cool star?” You asked, eyeing Bucky with a grin, “Steve’s friend Bucky, you should go ask him to show you.” You’d get him talking, get him to relax. Who the hell could say no to an excited kid? Evidently not even the Winter Soldier, much to your satisfaction.

You’d pulled Austin aside to make sure his workshop was suitable for the presence of other humans when Steve caught you both, thanking you, apologizing. You just rolled your eyes and told him to stop, as you turned back to the living room where a small, easy smile tugged at Bucky’s lips. He really was incredibly handsome.

You sauntered over casually, holding your hand out, “Time for bed, Kangaroo, go get your jammies on.” After much whining and playful feigning at boneless-ness, you just threw the kid over your shoulder, turning back to Bucky at the bottom of the stair. “We’ll get you fixed up tomorrow. Get some sleep, soldier.” You gave him a tired smile, it had been one long day. You’d hardly slept for 48 hours and you couldn’t wait to get to your bed.

“‘Night, agent.”

His reply reverberated through every nerve in your body. Of course he’d been getting a read on you all day, scanning every bit of evidence to determine who you were and what exactly your threat level would be.

He’d surely noticed how you paused now, half way up the stairs stock still with a giggling child over your shoulder, but he didn’t say another word. You turned back to him, a bold smirk on his lips and a daring gleam in his eye.

“I’m retired, _Sergeant,_ ” you bit back firmly, slipping into the darkness of the hallway.

* * *

You’d padded softly down the stairs at about half past 1 in the morning, shaky and tense. Hoping for sleep now was senseless. You knew you’d be awake for several hours yet, so you started the kettle and brushed your shaking fingers through your hair, gripping fistfuls close to your scalp for a moment, tugging just to feel something immediate, something to ground you.

Most of the time you believed in the work you’d done, understood that it was for the greater good, you were protecting people, saving people. But that didn’t come without sacrifice, and sometimes those sacrifices were hard to forget. Some nights they followed you into your dreams and chased you screaming and gasping into consciousness, shaken and alone.

After pouring the tea to steep, you shuffled to the fireplace and began building a fire when a low, rusty voice snapped your attention into instinct.

“You’re up early.”

Without even thinking you’d reached for the pistol you kept stashed beside the pile of logs and spun on your heel. You landed on one knee, aiming squarely at Bucky on the couch behind you. He held up one hand by his head in surprised innocence. “I’m not… I can’t move that one,” his eyes darted to his left hand, still immobile beside him.

You lowered the weapon, slowing your breathing and muttering, “I’m sorry. I thought you were… I didn’t know you were there.” After quickly stashing the gun, you focused on regulating. Quieting your rapid breathing, settling the tingling of your nerves over your skin, the heat pulsing over your scalp. Repeating “I’m sorry,” more to calm yourself down.

“You’re awfully jumpy for someone who’s retired,” Bucky observed.

“Not much of a retirement when Captain America and the Winter Soldier show up on my door needing my protection,” you snapped, “And then you! Slinking around here like a damn ghost.”

Too flustered and anxious now to bother with the fire, you went for your tea before easing in beside Bucky on the couch.

He chuckled softly, you were fierce and a little irritable, but he was curious. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Yeah, well, same here,” you answered, pointing at him with one finger, clicking your tongue with a wink at the same time you lowered your thumb to mimic the hammer of the gun you’d just pulled on him. You finally broke into an uneasy smile and sipped your tea, letting the warmth seep into your body where the lack of adrenaline now left a distinct chill.

“Why does Steve think you’re such good protection?” Bucky asked dryly. Apparently not yet done sizing you up.

“Because I am,” you grinned, turning to face him, slipping both hands around your mug to warm them. “That’s what I did. Protection detail, security operations.”

“So… what? You’ve got lots of tech? Security gadgets I can only dream of?”

You laughed softly, “Something like that, though the gadgets are more Austin’s department.” Setting down the mug, you turned to level with him, “I’m just… very good at what I do. That’s all.”

“People who wake up at 2am as agitated as you are, don’t have perfect records. They have regrets.”

His words were sharp. You knew he was pushing you, digging for information he couldn’t understand. He could feel that you were hiding something, but no one would give him the puzzle pieces to put it all together. He might be trying to slice you open to dissect you, but you would be gentle in your return.

“I think you know better than I do that that’s not true,” you answered him quietly, locking on his eyes, daring him to find any deception in your words. “A perfect record can _be_ the regret. When you can’t justify the objective.”

He stared at you hard, his eyes narrow, trying to decipher what that could mean about you, what objectives you had taken on that weren’t justifiable.

“SHIELD had its own agenda. Security for them means protecting whatever pawn is in playing position.” You fidgeted slightly, rubbing your thumb over the bones that stretched from your wrist to your knuckles. “Sometimes the order was to protect someone who didn’t deserve protecting, if it earned a ceasefire somewhere or a new power shift that benefited SHIELD.”

Bucky had shifted closer. Understanding had finally settled and he could see what had drawn Steve to you. His unwavering sense of right and wrong; your own moral code had grown to match it. “You regret saving some of them?”

“I regret that in some cases I destroyed the lives of the small to protect monsters.”

“Well, you’ve got a good 2 hours of sleep on me, so at least you can say it pays not to _be_ the monster.” He smirked, a distant smile. He was trying to be light, to undo the hardness with which he’d pushed you, but it somehow hurt more, seeing how he took on his own past.

“Listen, Bucko,” you teased, mercifully following his lead, placing your hand over his. “We all have something fearful inside of us. Homospiens are _horrifying._ ” You grinned, and he watched you with confused trepidation, a cautious smile pulling at one side of his mouth, his eyes narrowed, but ready to laugh. “I mean, I skinned a rabbit just this morning. Unzipped it like a coat and we just ate it for dinner.”

His laugh was deep and rippled through his chest as he shook his head. “You’re disgusting,” he teased, turning his hand over to curl his fingers over yours. “ **Here, take my blanket**. Your hands are ice,” he hummed, wrapping it over your shoulders, his arm lingering there, inviting you to linger with him.

“I um…” you started, lifting your eyes, from where you’d been adjusting the blanket at your shoulder to his soft looking lips. “I have a hard time getting back to sleep after…” you trailed off, forcing yourself to keep your eyes moving, to make it to those sharp blue eyes that had seen right through you, that you hoped still could. “Do you mind if I…?”

Bucky’s tongue darted out over his lips before he took a deep breath and shook his head. He leaned back into the couch again and you followed, curling under his arm, your head in the crook of his shoulder. The weight of his arm angling across your back, hand hooking on your waist was a comforting feeling. An indulgence you rarely permitted yourself, but as the exhaustion began to pull you with a heavier hand towards sleep, you embraced it gladly.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning you’d woken early, it was bright and damn cold. Snowing again. But Bucky was warm, and breathing slowly and softly and you didn’t want to move, wishing you could stay there where you’d fallen asleep, tucked close to his side long into the morning. But there were three people to whom you certainly did not want to explain this situation so you dragged yourself as quietly and gently as you could away from Bucky’s sleeping body beside you.

You missed his warmth immediately, but Bucky woke confused and disappointed. Rolling his stiff neck, he glanced around the room but it was as cold and empty as he’d initially found it last night, if only a little brighter as dawn crept through the windows. Frustration settled in his shoulders as he scrubbed his hand over his face with a groggy sigh before shuffling to his room, as you had done not long before.

It hadn’t taken much encouragement to get your nephew to drag Steve out to build a snow fort and begin a snowball war. That man would start a fight over an eyelash. Today, though, you were grateful for it. It meant you had plenty of time to get to work on Bucky’s prosthetic. You didn’t do much, really, just chatted with Bucky, tried to keep him relaxed, held a light for Austin from time to time or offered a second opinion, but he was the expert, really.

Frustration quickly took over, though, when he had peeled back several plates and carefully re-soldered the damaged wires, realigning the small intricate machinery. He’d tested each motor, tinkering and pulling and pinching, but couldn’t get them to animate.

“Y/N, I think I need your help here,” he finally huffed, leaning back and dropping his forceps onto the table.

You looked frantically from him to Bucky who looked at you, slightly confused. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Picking up a small flashlight, you pointed its beam beneath the exposed plates, “Look at that! I think it must be fused to his spinal column under there. Bucky, do you feel things normally with this hand?”

He nodded, “It’s not quite the same, but it’s calibrated to mimic pressure sensitivity.”

You scoffed, holding your hand out towards him, palm up, but looking to your brother, as if that was all the argument you needed. “It could kill him!”

“Well, nothing I have is strong enough to kick-start whatever the hell this power source is,” he reasoned none too gently, “So either it’s you, or I go get a car battery.”

You rolled your eyes at his over-dramatic ultimatum and turned to Bucky with a comforting smile. “No car batteries. Just me…”

“What the hell are you going to do?” He asked, suddenly on edge.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, looking at the floor before finally lifting your eyes to meet Bucky’s. A reassuring smile warming your face, but not enough, judging by the way he leaned away from you and glanced between you and your brother for answers, suddenly apprehensive.

“I’m going to get your arm going, but I need you to tell me if you feel any burning or tingling in your neck or back like pins and needles, or if you lose feeling anywhere at all, okay?” You gently dipped your fingers inside the cold metal cogs and wires to find the energy source that your brother had identified.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you doing?” Bucky seemed panicked, so you held his gaze for a moment, the soft smile in your eyes imploring him to relax, to trust you.

“Bucky, this is important, just…” You closed your eyes, focusing briefly, feeling the cold tingling sensation snap across your skin.

Snowy days were always good days for you. The moisture in the air was a great conductor and you could draw the energy from just about anywhere, even the static spark from an outlet or the friction of socks on carpet. You swiped the sleeve of your sweater over your jeans, and in an instant the tiniest static spark began to ignite across your skin like wildfire. You concentrated the web of white hot energy back toward your fingertips and into Bucky’s cybernetic arm.

He jumped in surprise, and your eyes snapped back to him, you placed your hand on his, both comforting and urging him. “Bucky, talk to me,” you insisted, “Any burning on your spine? Do you feel…?”

You stopped short, grinning when you heard the whir of the machinery pull his metal fingers into a tight fist. Drawing your fingers away, you nodded to your brother who stepped in to close up the plates. Free of the burden of immobility, Bucky swung his arm in a wide arc, testing the motion and shifting the plates. You had to admit it was mesmerizing to watch the machinery come together in a perfect symphony of automation.

“That is really fucking impressive,” Austin muttered, looking dumbstruck.

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbled quietly, watching his fingers flex and curl, testing the restored movement, “not for… Thank you for helping me.”

“Alright I think we’re done here!” You jumped up, darting out of the room, hoping to avoid the inevitable 20 questions. Bucky was left staring after you in shock, pulling his Henley back on and turning to Austin with eyebrows raised.

* * *

1:30am. Like clockwork. You snapped awake, sweating lightly, your lungs heaving, grappling for air as if you’d been running, fighting, killing, like in your dream. Pushing a shaky hand through your hair you tried to calm yourself down. This was a particularly bad one. The itch beneath your skin, the burning sensation clawing up your throat, the way the walls seemed to pulse around you. You couldn’t stay in your room and knew you wouldn’t sleep for hours.

You eased down to the kitchen, hugging your sweater tight around you before reaching for an etched crystal glass. This wasn’t a night for tea. You squeezed your eyes closed, finishing the glass as the smooth liquor burned its fiery path down your throat, warming you from the inside. Sadly, it did little to settle your nerves, so you poured another. Sipping this one more slowly, you leaned on your elbows on the counter, digging your fingers into your scalp until you heard the sofa creak.

“You alright?” Bucky called to you softly. You’d managed to avoid being alone with him most of the day, avoiding his questions. Now there was no escape.

You lifted your head from your hands and glanced at him briefly before turning your gaze to the snow, drifting lightly outside the kitchen window. “Yeah, I… just um… **I just had a bad dream again** ,” you mumbled.

Bucky gave a small nod of understanding and pushed off the couch. Without a word he stepped beside you, pulling down a glass for himself. He took a sip before grabbing his cup along with the bottle and cocking his head toward the sofa, signaling for you to follow him back into the living room. You reluctantly trailed behind him, sliding onto the couch and curling your feet beneath you.

He sat sideways facing you, one knee bent along the back of the couch, his foot nudging against yours, relaxed. He leaned forward and poured more liquor into your glasses. “So, nightmare or memory?”

You took another long pull and slowly rolled your head to face him. “Is there a difference?”

His brow knit together and his eyes narrowed for a moment, confused and cautious. “You were security detail. Protection. Saving people. What could be following you like this?”

“I was good at my job,” you shrugged, twisting a pale blue spark into a long wisp of energy, and letting it dance over your fingers. “I made decisions… Sacrifices. Well, I didn’t sacrifice.”

Most people didn’t notice the fluid web of energy around them, and when they did it was a burning spark, but to you it was a warm sensation buzzing constantly over your skin, one you could pool into fiery tendrils jumping from one conductor to another or tangling in long axons like bright, living threads. You couldn’t generate it, but you could manipulate it, increase it, pull it, draw it into a web, a burn, a force.

Just as suddenly as you’d pulled the bundle of electric energy, you released it, letting it dissipate into the air around you with a fizzle. You gently rubbed your forehead, trying to push out the unsteadiness of the nightmare that had been so close to a memory that it followed you, haunting your waking mind.

Bucky only watched, seeing something so familiar in the way you withdrew, in how you kept to your quiet home, alone and safe. For you and for those you loved.

He had done the very same when he’d escaped HYDRA. He’d hid away, afraid of his memories, of his own abilities and who would want to use them. He knew this quiet, isolated home was, to you, what his boarded up flat in Bucharest had been to him. Somehow you’d managed to keep connected to some family and a few trusted friends, but in his eyes that was a mistake. Allowing that connection only brought two dangerous soldiers, and this hunt back into your world.

Your voice, sounding tired and raw, caught Bucky back from his thoughts. “ **I’m telling you, I’m haunted.** ” Setting your glass on the table, you turned your head away as you reached forward to mask the tears that had escaped unbidden before you could wipe them away on your shoulder.

It was cold in the room, but you were still warm from the exertion of the nightmare and the heat of the alcohol tingling beneath your skin. A fresh warmth gathered in your cheeks when Bucky’s hand gently gripped the back of your arm, pulling you close without a word. You let the tension sift out of your body as his gentle warmth enveloped you. He pulled you close, his knee still propped along the back of the couch so that you were huddled tight against his chest, his legs on either side of yours, strong, heavy arms circling your shoulders, every inch of him surrounding you.

It was surprisingly easy and comfortable to mold yourself against this near stranger. Somewhere in your head there should have been alarm bells ringing, but there weren’t. It should have given you pause that Bucky would be gone any day now, but it didn’t. It should have mattered to you that he was Steve’s best friend, but it hardly registered. Somehow the still and perceptive comfort that he offered without a word, silenced all the reasons that this was a bad idea.

None of it made sense but none of it bothered to cross your mind as Bucky’s fingers traced lazy circles over your back, your cheek pressed to his chest, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You watched, half-focused, as he took your hand, his fingers dancing with yours until you were palm to palm, fingers outstretched but dwarfed by his.

“Have you always been able to do that?” he asked, the sound a half muffled rumble in your ear pressed on his chest.

You nodded your reply, chewing on your lip while Bucky twisted his wrist to cover your hand with his and curl it beneath your chin. “It’s useful,” you sighed, darting your eyes to his now operable cybernetic arm.

He offered only a small, tight smile, his perceptive stare taking in your every movement. “Useful to a lot of people, I’ll bet. Fury couldn’t have been too thrilled when you quit.”

You hummed, nuzzling softly into the softer crook of Bucky’s shoulder. “Nick understood. Steve didn’t.”

Bucky knew better than to follow that thread further. He knew his friend enough to know that Steve’s sense of duty overshadowed everything else, and that he expected the same uncompromising commitment from those around him.

“Anyway,” you sighed, “I think he does now. But it’s hard for him to be here and see a life he’ll never have. Could have, but he’ll never be able to make that choice. He’ll die out there one day. That’s not what I want for myself.”

“Is this what you want?” he asked calm but pressing, this daring near stranger you’d curled up against. “Waking up in the middle of the night by yourself?”

You pulled up slightly to meet his probing gaze. He wasn’t trying to be aggressive with his question, but he certainly wasn’t holding back. Your eyes darted between his for a moment before you answered quietly, “I think it’s the best I can hope for, now.”

That statement cut into Bucky in a way that nothing else here had. He knew that feeling, understood the quiet, gnawing knowledge that the lives you’d both led meant that nothing could ever be truly secure and not every dream could be had.

He’d been swirling those unyielding metal fingers over your back absentmindedly, staring forward, lost in the comfortable silence. He hadn’t even realized he had gone silent until you asked him a question, stirring him from his quiet drifting with a deep breath.

“Tell me something,” you asked quietly, sounding tired again, brushing your hair back behind one ear.

“What d’you want to know?” he murmured, now daring to tease at the ends of our hair, half hoping you wouldn’t notice the affectionate motion, half hoping you would.

“Mmm,” you hummed in reply, closing your eyes and rolling your lips between your teeth. “Tell me about a place. Any place, first one that comes to mind.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a little thrown by your question, but he just hugged you a little tighter, adjusting his grip. “Hmm I don’t remember everywhere I’ve been,” he began, “When I first got out I went to a lot of new places, never stayed anywhere long. It was exhausting, I thought everyone who made eye contact with me knew who I was. But I stayed in Bucharest for a while - that’s where Steve found me.”

“Why Bucharest?”

“It’s a good size - you can can disappear easily, but it’s not so big that it’s the first place someone thinks to look or where resources are concentrated. It’s not the most common destination, so interest was likely lower. Also not the wealthiest so…”

“No, not strategic reasons, why did you like it? Why did you stay?” you asked softly.

He was quiet for a moment and he stopped his tracing on your back, truly thinking. “Same reasons,” he finally answered, picking up the motion again as you hummed your interest. “I could get a quiet flat and no one bothered me beyond a polite smile in the hall. There were temporary jobs where no one asked why you were there.”

A frown crinkled your brow and tightened your lip, he was still thinking strategically, why it suited his needs. You were interested in his interests, not his strategy, and you wanted him to remember what drew him there. Turning your head you were about to probe more, when he started again.

“And there was a market I liked.” You smiled at that revelation, eyes still closed, and hummed in satisfaction. He laughed softly before continuing, “It was always busy, but not so busy you had to fight for a vendor’s attention. And people smiled. It was warm…”

His voice trailed off drifting away with the memory, but you’d since fallen asleep to the low hum of his voice rumbling through his chest and into your ear. He smiled at your steady breathing and shifted carefully, easing you to the side of him, nestling you deeper, secured between his enormous form and the back of the couch. You seemed to curl into him every time he moved. He smiled, resting his cheek on the top of your head before sleep pulled at his own mind, dragging him under.

* * *

The sound of clattering pans woke you with a start, you jumped slightly, but a pair of strong, heavy arms, held you tight. Safe.

“Shh! Buddy, easy!” You heard the familiar voice warn in a loud whisper from the kitchen, “…gonna wake the whole neighborhood!” followed by the small high giggle of your nephew.

You laughed, a soft and breathy sound, not fully awake yet, burrowing back into Bucky’s warm hold. He barely knew you, but it seemed like he did, like he _knew_ you. So it didn’t seem fast that he already loved the way you easily settled against his skin or that he found himself cataloguing every laugh, storing this one away for quiet early mornings. It didn’t seem strange that this house felt safe, and you, your family felt warm and comfortable.

He nearly forgot he was on the run as he reached out, indulgently letting his fingers glide across the smooth skin of your jaw. The thought of always needing to be alert fell like a heavy curtain when your sleepy eyes fluttered up to his and lingered for a moment. He forgot himself entirely when his eyes dropped to your lips and his thumb swept over your bottom lip, tugging it slightly with the motion.

Your breathing stilled to a shallow, hush, but he felt it. He felt it ghost over his thumb, warm and soft and every thought left his head except how badly he wanted to kiss you. While you stared at him, frozen, mesmerized by his simple movements, he seemed so lost in the feel of them, so you stayed silent and still, letting him lead. It was agony, the waiting. Waiting for him to kiss you, to do _something_.

Finally, he looked back up to you, tentative, like he was suddenly unsure, but you smiled softly and let the tip of your tongue just brush against his thumb, still resting over your lip. That was all it took. He tipped your chin and with a quick breath his lips were on yours, molding with yours, kissing you with a gentle insistence that had you forgetting too.

His hand slid further across your jaw until he was lightly gripping the back of your neck, urging you closer, kissing you deeper. Your fingertips danced at the edge where his neck met shoulder, your arms pinned between you, before Bucky finally pulled away slowly.

Arching slightly to look up at him, he greeted you with a lazy smile and you felt the warmth of your embarrassment rush to your cheeks. It was morning, and the others were up, and you were still here, curled around Bucky, sandwiched tightly, warmly, securely, between him and the back of the couch, lips flushed with the force of his kiss.

“We should um…” you stumbled, beginning to push off of him to right yourself.

“In a minute,” he hummed, pulling you close again, watching his own fingers glide over your shoulder, not ready to let you go.

* * *

By the time you’d extracted yourself from the couch, there was nothing to do but smile sheepishly at your brother’s scolding look and try to avoid Steve’s gaze altogether while you picked at your breakfast. Eventually everyone dispersed: Austin to pack up, Steve to make more calls and plans, Bucky to get showered and changed.

You didn’t mind cleaning up, mind wandering as you stared out the kitchen window over the sink. The mundane repetition of washing up. It was comforting in a way. It was normal. This was what normal life should look like.

Your attention and your instincts were called back into action when Steve set down the phone and picked up the dish towel beside you, drying the dishes as you washed them. He looked tired, but less anxious. He must have a plan in place.

“Natasha helping you?” you asked casually, nodding to the phone he’d hardly separated from since you gave it to him.

He didn’t answer, just gave you another tired, reproachful look. You knew better than to ask, but there wasn’t much else to say. Nothing safe anyway. He seemed to realize this too as time stretched on and the silence grew more and more constricting.

“She’s helping us get new IDs,” he conceded. “We’ll cross the border before we try for any commercial flights, it’ll be less conspicuous.

You nodded your agreement. They’d be idiots to try to board a flight within US borders. They’d be spotted immediately. Though you really weren’t sure how the hell they expected to get Bucky through security…

“Just remember you’re hiding, not fighting,” you teased, nudging him with your hip. “Try to blend in. Walk, don’t run.”

Steve laughed, deep but quiet. “Maybe you should remind Bucky of that,” he joked, as you snapped the towel out of his grip to dry your hands.

“Coming from you that’s… You boys are in trouble,” you teased, muttering, “Soldiers,” with a smile and a glance over your shoulder back at Steve. He was smiling, leaning against your counter, his hands gripping the edge. It was a brief moment of levity in a storm of duty and uncertainty. His gaze lingered a little longer than you were comfortable with and you dropped your eyes to the towel in your hand, folding it neatly before placing it back on the counter beside the sink.

“He likes you, you know?” he started abruptly. “Bucky. He’s been running for a long time but he seems comfortable with you. Thank you.”

You nodded once, but kept pulling at the edge of the dish towel. “Well, you could say the same about me I guess,” you muttered, not quite sure if you wanted Steve to hear it, but of course he did. “Just be careful, okay?” you urged, placing an earnest grip on his forearm, “Look out for yourself for once?”

You didn’t wait for an answer, knowing he wouldn’t give one, or at least not one you’d want to hear. Turning out the front door, you headed down the front steps of the porch to say your goodbyes.

* * *

“Thanks Austin, tell the wife I owe you guys one for helping us out,” you leaned cross-armed against his truck, watching your nephew play in the snow. “I’ll bring a cake or something next time I come down.”

“Probably best for everyone if you don’t try baking again,” he teased, dodging your swift attempt to punch him in the gut. “It was good to see Steve again” he chatted casually, and you “mhmm-ed” at the right moments, but you were only half listening. Your attention had drifted toward the front door of your cabin when Bucky stepped out and leaned against a tall pine pillar, looking dangerously comfortable on your porch.

“Just be careful, kiddo,” Austin insisted. That snagged your attention, your head snapping back to the conversation. “Don’t go starting fights over immortals who will be gone tomorrow.” You took a step back, willfully looking away from anyone. “He’s too old for you anyway, what is he like a hundred?”

You smirked, but took his point, shoving him lightly by the shoulder. “Looks good for his age, though, doesn’t he?” you smirked over your shoulder as you walked away.

“I don’t want to hear about any of that, Y/N,” Austin shouted after you as you scooped up your nephew into a swirling hug goodbye, grinning at his discomfort.

With the kid holstered on your hip, you asked if he’d said bye to Steve, told him to give his mom a hug for you, and prepared to give him one last squeeze when he begged you for fireworks. It was unusual for him to leave your cabin without seeing some of your skill at play.

“Pleeeeease??” he begged, “It’s not snowing anymore, you can do it!” The rule stood that you didn’t play with the power when there was liquid in the air. Snow wasn’t too bad, you could still control it all, direct the paths, there was enough space between the conductors. Rain was downright dangerous. The currents became erratic and the energy you amplified could easily slip out of your grasp, quickened by the incredible moisture content in the air. But now the snow had stopped, it was dry enough, safe enough.

“Fine!” you finally conceded, now that everyone here was in on the secret, there really was no reason to deny him. You were his aunt after all, it was your right and your responsibility to spoil the kid.

Setting him back on his feet, you took a few long steps back while rubbing your hands together. On a day like this the static was almost palpable to you. As you pulled your hands apart slowly, a glowing web of snapping energy tangled around your fingers, a few strands pulling from one hand to the other until you severed them completely into two active gloves, tingling, dancing energy crackling over your hands.

With a twist of your wrist you brought your fingers together on one hand, propelling the energy out in a short burst that traveled a small distance in the air, hopping from one molecule of moisture in the air to the next before exploding in several directions, seeking the fastest path to the ground. The small, controlled dispersion of energy looked like a tiny firework to your nephew who clapped and prepared a snowball, ready to try to intercept the next burst of energy as you released it into the air.

Your smile was easy and confident, you were relaxed like this, embracing your… gift, in the safety of _your_ space, _your_ family and friends. But it all came to a halt when you heard the quick series of beeps on your phone. The driveway alarm. Your brother stiffened and strode quickly to his son as you pulled out your phone, swiping to the feed in time to see a sleek red sports car fishtail through the thick snow, trying to gain enough traction to make it up your drive.

Your head snapped immediately to Steve with a look of angry incredulity. “ _Stark?!”_ you hissed, rounding on him in an instant.

“I tried to tell you not to involve anyone else…” he insisted, which, while true, wasn’t good enough.

“You should have _told_ me, so I could have understood what I was doing!” you hollered, just inches from him. Looking up at him with a simmering anger, your hand, still gripping the phone extended toward your family, defenseless on their own, regret seeping into your bones. You never should have dragged them into this. “If they leave now, before he sees you, before he sees Bucky and his now magically operational arm, will he let them pass?”

Steve took a slow deep breath and shifted on his feet. “I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Steve!” you scoffed, turning on your heel in frustration, pushing your hand into your hair.

“He’ll definitely stop them. Probably search the car, ask some questions,” Steve suggested. “If he finds out you repaired Bucky’s arm… he’ll probably detain you.”

“Is he sanctioned?” you demanded, but Steve only shook his head uncertain. “If Austin lies and says he just stopped in, how much trouble is he in?”

“I-I don’t know, Y/N,” he answered truthfully, “He’s Tony Stark, his best friend is a Lieutenant Colonel with a suit of his own, he can get pretty much anything sanctioned.”

A heavy breath left you in a huff. Your shoulders dropped as you shook your head in frustration and disbelief before turning to your brother with a short command, “Safe room.”

He only nodded, scooping up your nephew with a light voice, telling him they were going to go play hide and seek and needed to be really quiet. You swallowed the knot in your throat and pressed your eyes closed for a moment, trying to regain your composure.

You curled into the gentle hand that pressed against your back. Bucky. It was effortless the way his arm draped over your shoulders, comforting and protective. If there had been any way to keep him with you and keep him safe, you would have taken it, but there wasn’t. So you took a deep breath, remembering the way he smelled, the warm grip he had on you, and then you tipped your head up and whispered, “You have to go.”

“M’not going to leave you here by yourself,” he muttered, giving you a squeeze. He meant it to reassure you, but it only made it harder. Harder to be strong, to push away.

“No, you both have to go, now,” you insisted, pulling away from Bucky and looking to Steve, knowing he’d make the decision that Bucky didn’t want to. “There’s not much time.”

Steve nodded his agreement, “C’mon Bucky, she’s right. She’ll be safer when we’re gone.”

That hurt, but it was true. It was a truth Bucky had always known, it was a reality he had held close since he’d realized exactly what he was, years ago in DC.

You squeezed his hand as you pulled it from around your waist, “Hey,” you murmured, “Friends are always welcome here. You remember how to get here, right?” Your smile was warm, despite the cold feeling of goodbye.

“You sure you’re okay on your own?” he asked. A loaded question. Did he mean right now with Stark or in this life, alone in your cabin, waking up shaken and raw every night? You chose to restrict your answer to the immediate security concern.

“Well, I’m a little rusty, but worst case I can just dazzle him with fireworks,” you grinned, “He’ll forget why he’s after you at all.”

“I like that plan,” he whispered, long fingers sweeping over the side of your neck, “I’ll just wait inside, then.”

You laughed quietly, glancing down to hide the sadness of all the potential smiles, all the new ways he could kiss you, all the times you’d never feel him pull you into a hug when you least expected it. You couldn’t have any of it and you knew that the first night they’d arrived, but you had moved without caution and now you had to face the danger, and face the goodbye. This was a smile Bucky didn’t particularly want to memorize, but he wouldn’t look away.

“Get out of here,” you pushed him playfully, unwilling to say the actual words. “Hurry up.”

As he backed away, his hand slid over your jaw and he pinched your chin, giving you a heavy smile before turning at a jog with Steve for your pole barn. Steve knew your brother kept an old crop duster there that he liked to tinker with from time to time. It was operational, but by no means fast. Tony, meanwhile was a living rocket. You needed to keep him busy long enough for Steve and Bucky to get the small plane off the ground, landed and hidden. This wasn’t an escape plan, it was a stop gap.


	3. Chapter 3

 Tony finally made it to the end of your long drive and stepped out of his car. Pieces of polished red metal immediately shifting into place around his body as you stepped down from the porch, looking casual and unassuming.

“Y’know most people call first,” you called to him, testing the waters, “and it works out for everyone, see, because then I can tell them to rent an SUV with snow tires, not a…” you paused, leaning to the side to peer around him at the flashy car that was just so Tony. “Bugatti?”

“Really? I thought you liked surprises?” he fired back, walking casually to the front of the car, face mask open, holding his hands out to the side in mock surprise.

“Is the car the surprise?”

He laughed at that, “I’ll tell you what, Elsa, you give up Barnes and Noble and I’ll leave the car for you, and I’ll leave your…” he looked up at the roof of your cabin thick with several inches of snow, at the trees dripping with ice in the morning melt. “your ice castle alone and no one needs to know you’re here. Deal?”

You bit your lip, trying to bite back the anger at this underhanded proposition, trying to will yourself not to let your eyes flick to the plane rolling out of the back of the barn from the corner of your eye. You couldn’t draw attention to it, needed to keep Tony talking for as long as possible. Once he heard it, you’d need to really fight to keep him engaged.

“So you’re not here for tea then?” you urged, stepping onto the snow, hoping the sound of your heavy boots crunching on the day-old crystals would be loud enough to distract from the crunch of the tires behind you.

“I’ve never been much of a tea drinker, I might take a coffee to go though.”

Your eyes narrowed on him, nearing your breaking point. “To go,” you nodded, stepping closer. He seemed to tense at that, his posture stiffening. “That seems like a good idea. What agency are you operating under, here?”

“Don’t make this difficult, Y/N,” he pleaded, “They’re fugitives.”

“Oh you’re not under any agency yet!” you scoffed, “Good. That’s good Tony, because when I tell you to leave and you don’t I won’t feel bad about making you, because you’ll be trespassing.”

“You’re retired. Why are you doing this?” he asked you earnestly, “You walked away from this, what are you doing?”

“My friend asked for help defending his friend who’s been wrongfully accused.”

“I’m your friend!” Tony shouted, you could see now the plane was out of the barn, things would be getting very rough, very soon. “I’m asking for your help to end this safely! Help me bring Rogers in, we’ll get Barnes evaluated properly.”

You shook your head, knowing how that ended last time, you stepped forward again. “Tony, this is my home, my family is here. I’m asking you to leave.”

“I can’t do that,” he sighed, shaking his head, his warm brown eyes begging you to stop. He was your teammate once too, your friend. This was hard and it hurt, and damn it, Steve should have told you.

“Tony…” you sighed, “You know that in this state I have immunity if I shoot or kill an intruder… I’ve asked you to leave.”

He tilted his head, taking a step back, “Are you going to shoot me?”

“Are you going to leave?”

Before he could answer the sputtering growl of the small plane’s engine cut through the tense air. Tony’s eyes went wide, boring into you with disbelief before the gold mask shifted into place and he turned in the direction of the noise. You sighed and sent a rather large ‘firework’ at the back of Tony’s leg, sending him tumbling into a skidding roll.

He charged again, but by the time the electronics in his suit recovered you were on him. Your hand pressed to the back of his neck, sending pulse after pulse into the suit, scrambling the gear until he rolled with a shielded elbow extended in its hard casing, until it collided with your shoulder.

Your body skidded across the packed snow in front of the cabin while Tony rolled over again, climbing to one knee as his suit re-calibrated from your assault.

* * *

“Steve, are you sure about this?” Bucky asked as Steve turned the small plane onto the frozen lake, the clearest path for take-off. “I don’t think we should just leave her.”

“She’s got this, Bucky,” Steve reassured him, “Stark’s suit is powered by the energy source in the center of his chest. It keeps him alive and she can manipulate it. She won’t kill him, but she has a better shot at subduing him than we do.”

Bucky nodded but still seemed unsure, ducking to look out the window as you grappled with the man in the metal armor. “Bucky, the longer we’re here, the longer she has to fight him off. Every second we stay here is another second something could go wrong and she could get hurt. We’re doing the right thing.”

“Then get us the hell out of here.”

* * *

The cold air burned a sharp path down your throat as you panted out your exertion, dragging yourself onto your knees. It was a lot harder to fight someone and keep them alive, especially when the strongest energy source in the area was at the center of that individual’s chest, keeping him alive. You’d threatened it, but you really weren’t interested in adding to your body count, only in keeping Tony busy for a while.

But you were tired, and the longer this went on the harder it was to concentrate, and that was a fatal risk. Steve and Bucky had been gone for maybe 20 minutes now. It was a long time to be on alert, to be pushing like this, and the adrenaline was running out, but they needed more time. They took off in a crop duster that could travel about 200 mph, maybe a little more if they really pushed it. Tony’s suit could fly nearly ten times that speed.

They needed more time. You needed to do some real damage, to keep Tony on the ground. As he began to stand, the repulsors in his feet began glowing. In your panicked sense of urgency, you spread your palms flat on the snowy ground and gritted your teeth, focusing all of your concentration on pushing the energy around you forward and into those repulsors.

It wasn’t easy, on such a dispersed medium. The energy wanted to travel in every direction, but it also traveled fast and strong, unhindered by the insulation of the air around you, it cut clean and swift across the snowy ground. It also made a slight arc over your skin, climbing a tingling path up your arms from the moisture that stuck to your skin from sweat and your tumbling on the snow-covered ground. This was getting more dangerous by the minute.

The force you extended to Tony’s feet made impact and began to burn through the metal casing, damaging the wiring that allowed energy into the repulsors. You cried out at the effort and the stinging prickle of the unchecked energy biting into your skin. So lost in concentration, you didn’t even hear the winding noise of the photons in Tony’s palms as he fired a beam directly at your chest.

The bright ball hurtling towards your body caught your attention with just enough time for you to throw your arms up, drawing back the energy you’d been extending into a reactionary force that coated your forearms at the point of impact.

There hadn’t been time to draw enough energy to shield you completely and his attack sent you flying, tumbling over the hood of his car. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to actually fire at you. Now that he had you were furious. Enough holding back.

“You put a dent in my new car,” you taunted him.

“That’s a Bugatti, sweetheart,” he huffed, “I’m not leaving here without it.”

He crouched low, clearly expecting you to run at him, but instead you dropped to your knees again, palms flat on the snow, but this time you drew energy to you, pulling, draining through his suit. The white light made a tangle of scattered invisible wiring across the snow, dangerously charged as you pulled from the seemingly infinite source. The circle at the center of Tony’s chest flickered.

Tony looked down, taking in what you were doing, the suit - FRIDAY - calculating for him in real time every Joule of energy seeping from Tony’s own private Arc Reactor and into your palms. He seemed to realize time was his only ally and charged at you without a second’s hesitation. You continued to pull with every footfall, every contact he made igniting the conductive snow, draining more energy until he was too close and you rose, turning to dodge, but too late.

His iron-clad shoulder made solid impact with your stomach, knocking you off your feet and the air from your lungs. He continued to trudge forward, the momentum of his impact carrying you both tumbling forward as you clawed for breath. Your fingers dug into whatever cold metal you could find as you sent shockwaves into the wires, scrambling everything, but this was all Tony propelling you both forward until he stumbled through the brush, still gripping you tight as you tumbled together into the frozen river that ran along the edge of your property.

The icy grip of the water clamped a frozen fist around your lungs, squeezing your throat. Breathing was impossible, coming only in short choking gasps. Tony’s suit locked up under the cold, but you saw the glowing center and heard the winding photons telling you it would be fully operational again in no time.

Dripping wet, skin _burning_ from the cold, your head barely above the water you pushed onto your knees and locked your gaze on Tony. A ragged, desperate plea burned in your stare as he sat back gasping and pushing through his suit.

“Tony please,” you begged through gulping, gasping breaths, the cold shocking your body out of obedience, “This is dangerous, you’re going to get one of us killed.”

“What did you think was going to happen?!” he thundered back, “I tried, Y/N. I tried to tell you to back down. Just let me bring them in.”

“I can’t,” you sobbed, “I can’t let you do that, Tony. You’re willing to go this far with me…” a shudder rippled through your body as you clawed to the edge of the river, finally taking in oxygen again. “…what won’t you do when you see Barnes again?”

He huffed, shaking his head, his suit still grinding and whirring, trying to unfreeze itself.

“This doesn’t end with an evaluation and a fair shot for Bucky, does it?”

He sighed heavily, “Steve will do anything to protect Barnes. You don’t have to, Y/N. You don’t owe him anything.”

“No,” you agreed, which had Tony relaxing for a moment to catch his breath before you continued, “But he doesn’t deserve what you’re trying to give him.”

You blinked quickly, tears mixing with the water now turning to ice on your skin, your eyelashes white and heavy, the water already turned to ice. “Tony?” you croaked, “Promise…”

He waited, not willing to promise anything to you just yet.

“As my friend, promise me, you won’t let my family find me here like this.”

“Y/N, what are you…?”

Before he could finish, you slipped your hands back beneath the ice, plunging into the water where Tony lay in his suit and you pulled the energy with everything you had. It moved like lightning in the water, the energy seeping from his suit at an incredible rate under these conditions.

It was dangerous, even for you, to touch electricity when wet, and you were sopping. Soaked to the bone in icy water. Tony was safe, you drew the energy away from him. It would debilitate him. He’d need to hurry back to civilization to get himself a fresh biochip to power the tiny Arc Reactor that kept him alive. He would have time.

Time was something you didn’t have. The energy you pulled was too chaotic in the water. It skittered across the surface and dove deep, dancing across the rocks to find the ground, ricocheting over every wet surface, which was virtually every surface. The electricity that could never touch you, that you’d learned to manipulate, to control, etched burning pathways across your skin, sinking deeper and deeper the longer you pulled at the Arc Reactor.

You cried out as the hot white energy made snaking tendrils deep into your body, burning, destroying, killing. Your tumble in the river had soaked you head to toe, making an easy pathway for the arcing prongs to dive over your arms, your heart, your scalp. Soon enough it all went numb. First there was a sharp burning drive into your spine and then everything was stiff and numb and then it just went black and quiet, so so quiet.

* * *

Austin sat on the stone hearth for a long time, rolling the small burner phone in his hands, the one Steve had been using non-stop for the last few days. He’d debated what to do, how to handle this, but the more he thought on it the more sure he felt.

He took a deep breath and paged to the recent call list and couldn’t help laughing at the irony. He knew the number. Pressing the call button, he waited with his forehead cradled in his hand, hunched over, elbow resting on his knee.

“Steve! What the hell are you still doing there?” the familiar voice demanded as soon as she picked up the line, “I told you Tony’s on the way, you’ve got to get out, get everyone out n–”

“Steve left,” Austin cut in. The voice went completely silent. “Tony’s already come and gone, Natasha”

“What’s wrong?” Nat asked, concern now seeping through every syllable.

“Can you get a message to him? To them, I guess?” he asked, dodging the question for now. It was just too fucking hard to say it. He needed to get this out first. “To Steve and Bucky?”

There was another pause. Natasha was smart, she knew something was off, something was very very wrong, but clearly she needed to play this out a bit. “Okay, I can try. What’s the message?” she asked carefully.

“It’s um…” he stumbled, coughing to mask the way his voice caught in his throat, but he knew Natasha would hear it anyway. “It’s… I just don’t want them to see it on the news and come back.”

“See what, honey?”

Another cough, this one less effective. “They can’t come back. Not for… Y/N, Nat. Y/N’s gone.” he forced it out in a quick breath, all in one muttered, slurred rush. “And if they come back, even for the service, I’m afraid… If they come back it’ll all be for nothing, and I can’t… I won’t let it be for nothing. This was her choice and they damn well better see it through, d’you hear me?”

“Yeah, sweetie, I hear you,” she answered softly. “Austin, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Just tell them, alright?”

“I will. I’ll… They’ll know before morning,” she promised.

“When will you be home?” Austin asked her, a tinge of need coloring the desperate sadness in his voice. He was alone, and he had a little boy to look after, and he would be strong and take care of everything, but fuck, it would be a lot easier with his wife here.

“I was scheduled to stay in Sao Paolo until Thursday, but I’ll be home tomorrow, I promise.”

“K”

“How’s–”

“He’s fine. He doesn’t really understand it. Just keeps asking questions. Too young, I guess,” he interrupted. There was silence for a while. That was one thing he loved about Natasha. She knew when silence was comforting, knew that it didn’t have to be filled with mindlessness, it could be the bridge between two worlds.

“She said she’d bring us another cake,” he finally laughed out, half crying.

“Well I guess we all dodged a bullet there,” she teased, a risk, a huge risk, but god she needed to hear a smile in his voice.

It paid off, and she was met with a soft breathy laugh, “Yeah, but all I want now is a fucking chocolate box cake with blue frosting.”

“Oh god, that blue frosting,” she laughed, “Why the blue frosting?”

He laughed with her, wiping his cheeks and leaning back, breathing deep for the first time in hours. “I have no idea. She’ll always be blue frosting now.”

“Yeah,” Nat agreed, “I’ll bring home chocolate cake with blue frosting, and we’ll eat it all, just the 3 of us. We’re not sharing an ounce with all the random aunts who are going to turn up. Not one crumb, okay?”

He nodded, forgetting for a moment she wasn’t really there, that he was alone in his sister’s house. He’d always be alone here now.

* * *

Steve hung up the phone, staring at it, completely frozen as Bucky came out of the bathroom. They’d holed up in a shitty motel a few hundred miles north of the cabin, trying to stay hidden. They were to meet up with Nat’s contact tomorrow, so when she called, it didn’t seem unusual until he actually answered.

She’d taken _that tone_ and insisted he stay calm, reminding him that he was in hiding and their lives relied on it. She urged him not to do anything rash, told him that she was only calling to avoid his doing something sentimental.

The news hit him like a hurricane. First he was confused and shaken, nothing seemed to fit how it should. She could over-power Stark’s Arc Reactor. She could handle herself. Tony would never hurt her. What the hell happened? Then he listened, still, frozen, while the story raged through his head, swirling around him until it crashed into him again, dismantling every piece. Every part of him wanted to go back, to be there, to say goodbye, to say I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, to say those things to her and to her family.

But Nat was right. That wasn’t how this needed to go. It was a painful reality that he would need to hold on to, one he’d need to make Bucky see, too. He hung up the phone as Bucky returned with take-out, his hoodie high on his head. Bucky could feel the shift in the room, could see the weight on his friend’s shoulders as he set down the food and pulled off his gloves.

“What happened?”

* * *

Steve woke up naturally, which was the first alarm to go off in his mind. The second was the daylight beaming in through the edges of the hotel curtains. It was far too late. They should have been gone hours ago, should have met with Nat’s contact for new aliases and IDs and disappeared.

Cautiously, he rose, eyes scanning the room to find it too still. Empty. He jolted to his feet reaching for the small prepaid cell phone he’d picked up at the gas station down the road, but his reach came up empty. Looking with more fervor he realized it was gone, the bag of supplies was gone, as was the hotel notepad with the meet point for Natasha’s contact.

Deciding it was worth the risk, Steve picked up the hotel phone and dialed her number. Panic and irritation bubbled slowly higher with each ring until she answered.

“What the hell are you doing, Rogers? This line can be traced easily if–”

“Did Bucky meet your contact?” he cut her off.

“What?” she stammered, for once confused and surprised. “Yeah, he confirmed pick up hours ago, aren’t you… Oh shit.”

“Yeah. He’s gone,” Steve muttered darkly, heaving a deep sigh as he sunk onto the sagging hotel mattress.

“Getting real tired of that phrase today,” Natasha sighed into the phone rubbing her forehead. “You had to know this could happen, taking him there, anywhere with civilians…”

“She’s not a civilian, she's…”

“She was, Steve. She’d retired. You brought the storm to her. I know you’ll never be able to walk away from a fight, but she did. And who always begged you to walk away before you got hurt? Bucky. Now someone’s been hurt, for him. You had to see this coming, Steve.”

He shook his head slowly, he should have. But he hadn’t. He just didn’t think that way. Where he would always push and fight and stand, Bucky would protect and sacrifice, even if alone.

And he was alone. Again. Just like he had been when Steve found him in that tiny apartment in Romania, hiding, remembering, running from his memories. After everything… they were back to this again. Bucky on his own, too afraid of the consequences of his presence to let anyone close.

Frustration and loss shook every cell in his body, there alone in that shitty motel on the edge of nowhere, mind thick with regret. He dialed the phone one more time. This would end. She would be the catalyst that would end this cycle. All of this anger and pain had spiraled beyond the three of them and had somehow killed her too. The only way he could live with that is if it meant something. He’d make it important.

An unusual quiet weighed down Tony’s voice when he answered the phone, laced with irritation at the prolonged silence on the other end. Steve, for once, felt his words fall short.

“It’s Steve,” he muttered to a short sigh on the other end. “This has to stop.”

“Agreed.”

* * *


End file.
